


The Sabbatical

by Requin



Series: Make Serena Happy Week [3]
Category: Holby City
Genre: AU, Day 3, Day 4, F/F, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Make Serena Happy Week, Self-Discovery, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 06:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16550867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Requin/pseuds/Requin
Summary: Serena takes time off to grieve and rebuild herself, one harvest at a time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A happy Serena is a mentally healthy Serena! Here she is in France taking care of herself and falling in love!

Paris. Auxerre. Dijon. Macon. Lyon. Avignon. Serena follows her route along the map on her phone. The train goes too fast to see much of the stations as they whizz through, but the countryside is beautiful. Spring has definitely sprung and the fields burst with colours. Fruit trees are pink and white, and wildflowers make for fanciful borders. 

The train Serena is on is almost empty. She much prefers it that way. Above her head and at the front of the carriage is what amounts to her entire life. Three suitcases laden with her favourite clothes and books. The ones that she couldn’t bear to be parted with. 

Her heart is also laden, but with grief and sadness. The wound left by Elinor’s passing is still bleeding and sore and the mere thought of her daughter makes Serena weepy and despair. 

The more miles she puts between her and Holby, the better she feels, though.

 Somewhere in her bag is an email she printed out. A friend of Sian that left England for the sunnier climes of the south of France and bought a farm and a vineyard, has rooms and work and is known to be a bit of a misfit. “He’s always looking for more people to come and help out,” Sian told Serena. “It’ll be good for you to leave home for a bit”, she didn’t say but heavily implied. Serena had already asked for and got a sabbatical, but had no idea what to do, so she’d emailed, and Pascal had replied eagerly. 

Avignon marks a change in the landscape. The sun seems brighter. The hills are covered with vines and fields, and small medieval villages dot the tops. Even the air smells fresher. 

The train lumbers past small stations with names that are difficult to pronounce. They’ve left the high speed rail track and now meander in the back country, over small rivers that glisten like jewels and across olive groves full of bees. 

A family joins the train and Serena’s heart spasms painfully at the sight of the young girl with pigtails. She looks just like Elinor did at that age, so Serena looks out the window and breathes in and out until the yawning chasm of grief abates somewhat.

She arrives in Manosque and stands on the platform, a little lost. Her suitcases form a circle around her and she’s contemplating a move when a young man comes running towards her, a big smile on his face. 

“Serena?” 

She nods, bemused, and he leans to kiss both her cheeks. Only shock prevents her from kneeing him in the groin. 

“I’m Olivier, Pascal’s nephew! He sent me to get you, but there was a...mouton? A sheep! On the road, so I had to take it down the hill!”

All of this said with a strong French accent. Olivier can’t be a day over 20, and he is built like a rugby player, with strong arms and tanned skin. Serena bets he’s popular with the ladies. 

He grabs her bags like they’re filled only with feathers and off they go along the platform and out of the station. Serena is so bemused by the whole thing that she dumbly follows without a word.

“The van is over there. It’s only a 30-minute drive, but I have a cheese and some bread if you want? Also wine, but maybe it’s too early? I don’t know when British people drink? Is it only tea until 5?” 

Serena blinks and laughs and they end up both laughing by a beaten up van that has seen better days. It feels good to laugh. Serena hasn’t laughed in ages, and it feels rusty. 

“Is it my English? Sorry! My uncle says I speak too much!” Olivier says with a smile. 

Serena shakes her head and watches as Olivier loads her bags at the back of the van. The sun is warm on her shoulders, so she shrugs off her blouse and is down to her vest top. 

Olivier gestures to the passenger seat so she climbs in, smiling at the car magazines that litter the front of the vehicle. 

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t clean! Uhhh, maybe just put them at the back. Ok, are you ready? Do you like music? I sing not very well but I like the British and American bands. Rolling Stones? Fleetwood Mac?”

 So that’s how Serena finds herself singing The Chain and Satisfaction at the top of her lungs with a man child along winding roads. The windows are down because the van doesn’t have air conditioning “sorry about the hot!” And her hair ruffles in the wind and she breathes in the smell of cut grass and she feels like everything could be ok for the first time since Elinor died. 

The farm and the vineyard sprawl over two hills and a valley, right next to the charming village of Puimichel. The main building sits on top of one hill and overlooks the whole domain. Pascal, Sian’s friend, shows off his kingdom with a proud sweep of his arm. He is Serena’s age and Serena already likes his easy smile and his careful mention of why she’s here. “Needed a bit of time away, yes? You’ve come to the right place.” 

They walk amongst the young vines, the olive grove, the orchard, the fields of rapeseed and corn. Pascal introduces Serena to the goats and the cows. To the horses. To a pig named Martha that is pregnant and very friendly. To the two dogs, Ping and Pong, both collies that run around like alarmed bees. He shows her the hives, the milking station, the stables.

 “You can do whatever you want, Serena. I don’t know what...what you need, but you can work in the fields, or with the animals, or you can have a look at my accounts, because I’m just a farmer and I don’t understand all this excel? The tables?” 

She wants to cry at how gentle and understanding he is. Instead she just nods and they have dinner with Olivier and a few others at a big communal table in the rustic kitchen. 

Pascal is obviously quite the magnet for misfits. 

There is Olivier, who is delaying university to see if farm life is for him. And then there is Julie, an artist who sometimes rents an outbuilding to paint abstract views of the countryside that are apparently very popular.  She is covered in shawls and smells of patchouli and talks of auras, which makes Serena smile. 

Across the table, Ramzi and Kader try their English with Serena and from what she understands after a few broken sentences, they’ve had a few run ins with the law “just for taking some things!” And do the heavy lifting around the farm. They both have bulging muscles and brim with energy. 

Next to them, there is an older man that smokes a roll up cigarette and looks like he’s seen everything. That’s Emile and he’s been a farmer for ever, he tells Serena in careful French. 

Pascal’s wife, Valerie, heads the table. She’s clad in overalls and laughs easily. Her English is pretty basic, but with Serena’s French they manage to chat about the little outbuilding they’ve put Serena in. It’s single level but it has a small living room and kitchen, and Serena’s chosen one of the two bedrooms that opens onto the sloping fields. It’s basic but gorgeous. Valerie warns her that the dogs like to sunbathe by the front door, but Serena likes the idea of having them as company.

After toasts for Serena’s arrival, everyone heads to bed. Serena stands by her new bed, in her new home, and bursts into tears. It’s not all sad. She’s exhausted, but also relieved. She’s made the right choice she thinks. The people are kind and the place beautiful. She sleeps the entire night through. 

 

From then on, the days bleed into one another. Serena tries her hand at everything. She discovers an affinity for driving tractors. She loves to look after the horses after their hard days in the fields. She overhauls Pascal’s excel spreadsheets. She drives into Puimichel with Valerie to do the shopping. She’s good with Martha, the pregnant pig, and becomes the only one that can give her her blood pressure medication. 

She feels needed. Useful. Grounded and aware of her body for the first time in for ever. Days in the fields and around the farm tone her body and lighten her heavy heart. 

Her first month passes, then her second and her third. She comes to cherish the communal dinners and the lunches taken outside. Olivier likes to join her if he can, and he talks and talks and makes her laugh. It seems like the sun always shines and the olives grow and the corn gets higher and higher. 

Serena likes to take walks as the sun sets over the hills. Everything is quiet after the busy sun-drenched hours and even the animals are calm. She has a spot under a big olive tree at the edge of the grove, where she likes to sit and think. The air is sweet and the bees buzz around in the branches, and Serena feels at peace there. 

 

In the middle of summer, in Serena’s fourth month at the farm, Pascal takes her aside as she comes back from checking the bee hives.

 “I’ve had a call from my friend Simon. He’s with Médecins sans Frontières, and he knows this doctor that got injured in Afghanistan. She’s British and she needs a bit of rest and sunshine before she can go back to work.”

 Serena smiles at the thought of another stray joining them. Over the months she’s seen people come and go, some for a few days, others a few weeks. They all needed a bit of rest and to gather their strength before going back out into the fray. 

“Is it ok if she shares the petite ferme with you?”

The petite ferme, the rather grandiose name for her outbuilding, has become Serena’s home and sanctuary.

“Of course. It’ll be good to talk medicine again,” she replies.

 Pascal thanks her gratefully. Serena is full of wonder again at how generous Pascal is. He is a mentor to three young men, is patient with their mistakes and always keen to show them what he knows. He is a loving husband. His house is open to all who need it, and Serena has stopped counting the days when a friend of a friend stopped by and needed a place to stay. 

The farm makes her think of a commune, and Pascal makes it work, somehow. Hard edged men like Ramzi and Kader get along with old timers like Emile, and Olivier is becoming quite the man under Pascal’s careful tutelage. 

 

Serena’s at the station waiting for this British doctor, and she thinks about how far she’s come since she was there last. 

Her grief has dulled. She still has bad days where she spirits herself away to be with her thoughts. When that happens, Valerie gives her half a Brie and a baguette and pushes her out the door. Serena walks and cries and walks some more, and when she comes back in the evening she feels drained but renewed. 

The sun is strong. She’s wearing a dress because she spent the morning cleaning out Martha’s pen and her farm clothes had got all dirty. 

The train enters the station; the same one Serena took four months ago. She doesn’t have much to go on, for this doctor, apart from her name, Berenice, and that she’s around Serena’s age. Pascal’s communication skills are pretty rudimentary, just like the wi-fi connection and phone signal round the farm. 

So Serena scans the passengers that leave the carriages. There aren’t many. She moves a bit to let a family pass and then she spots her. A lanky blonde with a lost expression on her face. Serena’s heart quickens and she rakes her hands through her hair for some unknown reason.

 “Berenice?” She asks softly when the blonde walks past her.

 The other woman stops and gives her a shy smile and Serena thinks she’s beautiful with those dark eyes and that unruly fringe. 

“Yes. Um, Bernie, please.” Serena likes her voice. It’s deep and smooth. 

“Bernie. I’m Serena.” They shake hands with self conscious smiles and Serena isn’t used to British reserve anymore. 

She takes one of Bernie’s bags, she only has two, and they walk towards the exit. 

“Have you had a good journey?” 

Bernie walks with a small limp, but otherwise seems fine, Serena diagnoses quickly. 

“Yes, all pretty straightforward.”

 Serena nods and flashes her a bigger smile that is met with a slight pinkening of Bernie’s cheeks. 

“This is us,” Serena says as they reach Pascal’s old pick up truck. 

Bernie doesn’t comment on the state of the car, just gets in a little gingerly. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a white linen shirt, and Serena looks at her slender hands for a second as she starts the truck. They don’t look injured, which is a small mercy for a doctor. Serena stays silent as she negotiates the tricky roundabout near the station, but then curiosity gets the better of her. 

“You’re a doctor?” She asks as they trudge along.

 Bernie nods and then grimaces.

 “A trauma surgeon. Well, was, really. I haven’t operated since...since the accident,” she says quietly.

 Serena nods and then something clicks. “Wait. Are you Bernie Wolfe? From the RAMC?”

 Serena can feel Bernie’s surprised eyes on her and she smiles. 

“Yes, um, how did you...?”

“I’ve read some of your work. Fascinating stuff. Emergency laparotomies in trauma situations, if I remember correctly,” Serena explains excitedly.

 It seems so surreal to be in this beaten up truck with Bernie Wolfe of all people. The woman is a legend and her reputation precedes her. Serena had no idea she got injured. 

“Yes, that was me. Is me. I, uh, so you’re a doctor too?”

 “Serena Campbell, vascular surgeon and head of AAU at Holby City, at your service,” Serena says with fanciful bow of her head. 

Bernie laughs, eyes gleaming.

“I’ve heard of you, too! The vascular surgeon with an MBA!” 

Serena is suddenly giddy with pride and she’s glad she knows the road so well, because her attention is wavering. To be known by someone of Bernie’s calibre is a delicious head rush. 

They spend the rest of the drive talking about their respective careers, and even though Bernie’s is full of excitement, Serena has plenty to contribute as well. It’s a delight talking to Bernie. She’s clever and passionate and her hands move as she talks. Serena is relieved to see the farm because she wants to spend more time with her new friend and she doesn’t want to drive into a tree.

 Pascal gives the grand tour and Bernie meets the crew, and then Serena shows her the petite ferme. She watches as Bernie looks around, a small smile on her face, and laughs quietly when Bernie stares at the view. The sun is setting over the valley and the fields are golden. The sky is almost orange, the light turning the small clouds pink.

 “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

 “Yes. I...I don’t think I’ve ever lived somewhere as beautiful as this,” Bernie says in an awed whisper.

 Serena gets it. She felt the same for weeks. She’d forget and then would stare out the window for hours.

 When Bernie offers to make her a cup of tea, Serena knows they are going to get along just fine.

 

For the first few weeks after Bernie’s arrival, Serena takes it upon herself to show their new recruit the ropes. Despite her limp, Bernie is strong and eager. She loves to walk amongst the fields with Ping and Pong, and the dogs fall in love with her the very first day. In fact, all the animals of the farm seem smitten with Bernie. The goats are docile when Bernie comes to get them for the night. The cows follow meekly when Bernie leads them to the milking station at dawn. 

It’s obvious that Bernie prefers mornings. She gets up with the sun and helps Emile with the morning tasks, leaving the youngsters to sleep for an extra hour. When she comes back from the milking station, she makes tea for Serena in their small kitchen and they both watch the mist burn off as the sun rises over the hills. Serena likes those mornings most of all. Just her and Bernie sipping their tea and talking quietly. She finds herself looking forward to these moments, can’t help the smile on her face when Bernie hands her a steaming mug with a shy, pleased look in her eyes. 

During the day, even when they do not work together, Serena finds a way to see Bernie. She brings her lunch as Bernie helps repair a fence down the hill, or she drops by on her way back from the hives, spends a few minutes talking to her as Bernie feeds the goats. Serena has always looked for female friends throughout her career. She’s never been one to compete with her female peers, much preferring to band together to make life easier. 

At Holby there was a definite lack of women her own age, and the loss was keenly felt. 

Bernie is everything she could possibly want in a friend. She’s clever and funny and capable. She’s independent. She seems to find Serena interesting in return, and it becomes routine to see them together on the farm. 

One evening, at the end of summer, Serena is under her olive tree. She’s had a hard day, her grief so overwhelming she finds it hard to breathe. The bark against her back feels solid, and this grounds her. She’s trying to get her heartbeat under control when she hears footsteps. She’s about to whirl around and snarl something cutting when she realizes it’s Bernie. 

“Valerie told me you’d be here. I hope it’s ok. It’s just…I hadn’t seen you all day, and I wanted to make you sure you were fine?” 

Bernie looks so earnest and kind that Serena nods and moves to make space next to her. 

They sit in silence for a while, the birds chirping the only sound for miles. Bernie is wearing overalls that are too big for her, and she’s rolled up the sleeves and the legs up to her knees. Her skin is tanned, now. And her hair much lighter. She’s chewing a piece of straw, her fingers digging idly into the earth by her feet. 

Anyone else would ask and prod, but not Bernie. Bernie seems happy to just sit there. 

The breeze picks up, ruffling their hair, blowing Bernie’s fringe into her face. It must tickle, because she laughs, and Serena suddenly thinks she looks beautiful. It’s not the first time. Serena has got eyes, after all. But there is something about having Bernie’s solid presence next to her when she’s feeling so vulnerable. Something just out of reach. Serena just knows she would like Bernie to stay by her side for ever. 

“My daughter died six months ago,” she suddenly says. 

The birds fall silent. The wind dies down. Even the branches above them seem to still. Bernie’s breath hitches and she turns to face Serena, her face serious. 

“It was a car accident. Well, coupled with drugs. She seemed fine and then she was gone,” Serena says, her voice flat. 

Bernie scoots closer and loops an arm around Serena’s shoulders. It’s the first time they’ve really touched. 

“I started obsessing over her file at work, and I got…I was in a very bad place. So I took a sabbatical and ended up here,” Serena continues, her voice wavering now. 

Bernie draws her closer and the tears come just as Serena puts her head on her shoulder. It’s all a bit messy and raw, but Bernie smells of freshly baked bread and that awful soap she insists on using, and Serena buries her face in Bernie’s neck. 

“I miss her so much, Bernie,” she sobs as she clutches Bernie’s knee.

“Of course you do,” Bernie whispers in her hair. “Tell me her name.” 

“Elinor.” 

“A beautiful name,” Bernie replies, and Serena can feel her smile against her temple. 

Truth be told, Serena avoided this very conversation. She wanted to keep this budding friendship light and casual. Didn’t want to burden Bernie with her grief and her pain. So she avoided talk of children, just knows that Bernie is divorced. Not anymore. 

“She was brash and arrogant, and we fought more often than not. But she was mine,” Serena says, and the pain is so bright that she hiccups. 

Bernie holds her tight and lets Serena talk. The whole thing comes out. The accident, but also the fights and Edward, the sorry state of her marriage and her acrimonious divorce. 

When she finishes the sun has set and the air is chilly. But Bernie does not move. They stay in each other’s arms, in the dying light. 

“I’m sorry, I think I ruined your shirt,’ Serena says after a while. 

Bernie laughs and shakes her head. 

“That’s ok. I don’t mind.” 

Serena straightens, misses Bernie’s body heat the second it’s gone. 

“Thank you. For this,” she says, a little embarrassed now that they are looking at each other. 

Bernie’s eyes are kind and soft in the dusk. 

“Anytime. We surgeons have to have each other’s back, right?” 

“Right,” Serena agrees, her eyes on the ground. “And same here. Your back. I’ve got it too, I mean,” she adds, her cheeks burning. 

Bernie has a kind soul and only nods, and when she offers a hand to help Serena up, Serena takes it gladly. 

Their friendship shifts from then on. They become inseparable. Pascal jokes that they are as close as Ping and Pong. 

The vendange, the grape harvest, starts in September and it’s all hands on deck for three weeks of intense work. Pascal gets seasonal workers to help them, and the farm is filled to bursting with students eager to earn easy cash. 

Serena and Bernie work side by side, row after row, basket after basket. From dawn until dusk. It’s hard, but it is also very satisfying to see the fruits of their labour being carted off to the winery. 

As they work, sun beating on their shoulders, Serena gets to know all about Bernie. She learns about the RAMC, about the IED that blew her up, about her divorce and the strain on her and her children’s relationship. It’s a whole life. A full one. Serena finds it fascinating. 

On the last night of the harvest, Pascal hosts a thank you party. It’s a good excuse for copious amounts of wine and food, and soon the guitars are out. They light a bonfire. The stars are bright in the night sky, and the sounds of conversation and music echo down in the valley. 

Bernie manages to steal a bottle of wine and her and Serena drink it while they listen to Kader serenade the group. Serena bets none of the young women in attendance would kick him out of bed. At the edge of the circle they formed, Olivier is chatting with Pascal but making eyes at a young student from Avignon. Who is making eyes back, Serena notices with a smile. She leans towards Bernie to share her gossip, but finds Bernie is already close. They are touching from shoulder to hip, and it makes Serena flush. She blames the wine and the heat of the fire. Everyone is a bit drunk and merry, and they are surrounded by twenty-somethings that are all going to pair off. No wonder Serena is feeling a little off kilter. 

Bernie hands her the wine with a smile. They’ve been drinking straight from the bottle, and Serena feels very conscious of where Bernie’s mouth has been. People start dancing. The flames flicker on laughing faces, and bodies twist and turn in the shadows. The air smells of summer, still, and Serena feels giddy and happy. 

It’s gone past one when they stumble back to their petite ferme. The light of the fire is behind them and the path is dark. The sounds of the party fade as they round the main building. The moon helps them find their footing, but the wine and a few loose stones make Serena stumble as they reach their destination. Bernie grabs her by the waist and they twist and laugh and Serena ends up with her back pressed against the stone wall, Bernie’s body hot and soft against hers. She gasps and the world stands still. Bernie’s eyes are dark and they burn Serena’s skin. 

They look at each other. Bernie’s hands are still on Serena’s waist.

Serena blinks, stunned by the desire pooling low in her belly and between her thighs. Suddenly everything make sense. Needing to be close to Bernie all the time. The connection she’s felt from day one. The butterflies in her belly every time Bernie walks past or smiles at her. Bernie. 

Who is still looking at her with her dark eyes, obviously letting her decide. Bernie the noble Major. 

Serena leans closer and breathes in Bernie’s scent. The soap, the smoke from the fire, the lingering smells of summer. It makes her head spin in the most delightful way. She hasn’t felt like this in ages, if ever. She wants to kiss and lick every inch of the woman in front of her, and even though that should terrify her-the woman part at least- it doesn’t. 

Bernie is silent but her body is warm and willing. She appears calm, but she’s just as nervous as Serena, judging by the slight tremble of her hands. 

“I would very much like to kiss you,” Serena whispers, her mouth inches from Bernie’s. 

She smiles when she hears Bernie’s breath stutter. She sees Bernie close her eyes briefly and her stomach muscles clench at how much she desires her. Bernie nods and Serena leans in. 

Bernie’s lips are very soft, and they taste of wine and Serena never wants to stop kissing them. She reaches to tangle her hands in Bernie’s hair and she tugs until Bernie gasps and her hips surge forward against her, pinning her against the wall. 

It’s all a bit hazy after this. They kiss and kiss. Bernie cups her cheek with a trembling hand and splays the other on Serena’s hip, and they slot their legs so that Serena finds herself grinding against Bernie’s toned thigh. It’s glorious, and messy, and Serena would not have it any other way. Bernie is free with her sighs and her moans and the very sounds make Serena kiss harder and deeper. 

It’s only when Ping and Pong come barrelling past that they separate, breathless and eyes wild. 

“Good lord,” Serena says after a second, her heart beating crazily in her chest. 

Bernie laughs, her fringe hiding her eyes until Serena brushes it away. The gesture is intimate and they freeze, lost in each other’s eyes once more. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Bernie says. 

The words curl into Serena’s belly and nest deep within her. As much as she wants to take this further, she is very conscious of the wine they’ve both drunk. While normally this wouldn’t bother her, Bernie feels different. She wants to savour her like the finest vintage. 

She kisses Bernie’s cheek, makes sure to drag her lips along Bernie’s jaw. Bernie gulps. 

“Can I interest you in dinner in the village tomorrow?” Serena asks before she loses her nerve. 

She wants to do this right. And she is very good at dating. She wants to watch Bernie blush and stammer as Serena flirts and quips. And the village has a very good brasserie with outdoor sitting under a big olive tree. 

“I would love to,” Bernie replies, her cheeks pink. 

Serena rewards her with a kiss that quickly gets out of hand. She wants nothing more than to drag Bernie inside, but she manages to restrain herself after one last nip of Bernie’s delectable lower lip. 

“Good. Until tomorrow then,” Serena whispers. 

Bernie’s eyes are on her lips, and Serena hears her breathe in shakily before stepping away. 

“Just so that we’re clear, I want to do this sober. That’s all,” Serena says firmly. 

Bernie smiles and nods, but Serena can see that her shoulders aren’t as tensed. They haven’t discussed their dating life after their respective divorces, but Serena reckons there is a story there. 

The small house is dark, but Serena navigates it easily enough. She wishes Bernie a good night, and in the safety of her bedroom she lets out a shaky breath. 

Bernie Wolfe, of all people, she thinks with a smile. 

It takes her a while to get to sleep, hot and bothered by images of Bernie pressed against her. 

All in good time, she promises herself.


	2. Chapter 2

The farm is lethargic the next day. Only Emile seems unaffected, zooming around in a tractor and cackling every time he sees someone emerge with bed hair and squinting eyes. 

Throughout the day, Serena is distracted. She can’t make her hands work, she keeps dropping things, and she actually walks into a fence post when she sees Bernie in the goat pen. It’s not her fault Bernie is wearing those overalls she loves.

They look at each other shyly and Serena can feel her cheeks redden. It’s like she’s sixteen all over again. 

“So, you and Bernie, yes?” Olivier says, leaning on the fence with a cheeky smile. 

Serena scoffs but her blush is evidence enough. Olivier’s smile widens. 

“Ah ah! I knew it! Was it the overalls?” He asks, gleeful. 

Serena lets out an offended “no!” but Olivier starts a little celebratory dance. She wants to shush him but he looks so happy for them that she just rolls her eyes. 

“I’m taking her to dinner tonight, in the village, and that’s all I’m telling you on the subject,” Serena says sternly. 

Olivier mimes locking his lips and throwing the key away, but Serena knows the information will be all over the farm by the end of the day. Olivier is a talker. 

“She is a good woman,” he says after a second, his features serious once more. 

Serena nods. She watches Bernie feed and talk to the goats in the distance. She can’t hear what she’s saying, but her face is gentle and it makes Serena’s heart beat a little faster. 

“And you are too, Serena. I hope tonight goes well,” Olivier continues.

Her very first friend on the farm and he is blessing them with all his farm boy heart. She squeezes his arm as she walks way. 

“Oh! And if you walk home, take the path on the right of the bridge. Trust me,” he says with a wink. 

 

A slight problem presents itself in the evening when Serena realises she doesn’t have much in the way of evening wear. She’s worn practical clothing for almost 6 months. She digs into her closet, muttering darkly, when she suddenly finds the dress she wore when she picked Bernie up at the station. It’s cinched at the waist and flatters her figure, and the weather is still good enough to go out without long sleeves. She pairs it with a soft shawl, puts on a bit of make up and declares herself ready. 

Bernie is nowhere to be seen so she waits by the big window in the living room. The sun has set already, but the sky is alive with gold clouds. Serena can see Ping and Pong playing in the field below the house and their antics make her smile and forget how nervous she is. 

She knows the date will go well. Bernie and her have spent enough time with each other for Serena to be sure they are pretty compatible. But there are unknown factors as well. They are both women. There are obviously things they haven’t discussed. And what about the future? Here they are in this lovely French bubble, but it can’t last forever. 

These thoughts are swirling in Serena’s head when she hears footsteps behind her. She turns and her heart jumps in her chest. Bernie is wearing a suit. Her eyes trail up and down. It’s a lovely beige suit with a white shirt and Serena has to force herself to swallow. 

“You look amazing,” she breathes out. 

Bernie ducks her head and hides under her fringe, but she gets closer to Serena and kisses her cheek. 

“You are beautiful. I remember this dress,” Bernie says shyly. 

They stare at each other for a moment, both a little bashful. Bernie blushes as she gives Serena a sprig of lavender. 

“I know you like it. Saw it on my way back up the hill and thought of you,” she says, almost mumbling. 

Serena takes it with smile. It smells heavenly and she tucks it in the first button of her dress. The soft lilac compliments the navy blue of the dress, and the whole thing is very romantic. 

She leans over to kiss Bernie on the cheek and rubs her thumb over the lipstick mark she leaves behind, smirking when she hears the hitch in Bernie’s breath. 

“Shall we?” Serena offers. 

They step outside and make their way along the hill towards the village. Apart form a good natured wolf whistle from Kader and Ramzi, they manage to escape further ribbing. 

It’s still light out and the walk to the walled village is pleasant. The conversation is a bit stilted at first, the new dynamic making them shy, but soon it flows as normal. 

Roger, the owner of the only restaurant and café in the village, knows them well. He buys all his meat and his vegetables from the farm, and Serena and Bernie have spent many an hour sat at a table pouring over the Lancet, which Bernie gets delivered to the local post office. 

He winks as he sits them at the best table, the one tucked away by the olive tree that dominates the village square. There are fairy lights strung in the branches, and the restaurant is busy but not overwhelmingly so. Serena knows Olivier has opened his big mouth when she sees the single red rose in a vase in the middle of the table. 

“To make it a little special,” Roger says when he hands them the menus. 

Bernie blushes and she looks beautiful in this soft light. Her shirt is opened at her throat and Serena longs to kiss a path from her jaw to her collarbones. It’s difficult to concentrate when Bernie is looking at her like she’s something so precious. 

Roger brings a bottle of wine, one from their vineyard. It’s smooth and heady, just like Serena likes it. She pours Bernie a glass, makes sure Bernie gets a view of her cleavage, and smiles a little devilishly when she hears a sharp intake of breath. Still got it then. 

They talk about the farm, about their friends. Now that the grape harvest, the biggest event of the year, is done, their attention turns to seeding fields and preparing the farm for winter. While their area seldom gets snow, they still need to get hay sorted, and the orchard needs pruning. Talk of physical labour turns to injuries and to medical procedures and soon they are sharing dessert, a sinful tarte tatin. 

Serena generously gives Bernie the last of their wine, and politely declines the offer of another bottle. Bernie keeps giving her scorching looks from across the table, and Serena needs her wits about her. 

“Allow me to walk you home,” Bernie says as they get up. 

She offers Serena her arm with a chivalrous bow and a laugh, and Serena takes the opportunity to press herself against Bernie’s body. They leave the square behind, their footsteps echoing on the uneven cobblestones. 

They cross the bridge that leads back to the farm, and Serena is reminded of Olivier’s advice. She coaxes Bernie to take the path on the right. Everything is quiet and still. The light is good thanks to the moon, but Serena blames the darkness when she takes Bernie’s hand into her own. 

The path curves, and suddenly the most beautiful view appears. They can see the farm in the distance, and the olive grove and the orchard give it almost a magical air. 

They walk hand in hand, stealing looks at each other with bashful smiles. 

When they reach their front door, Bernie ducks her head and puts a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“May I kiss you?” She asks, almost too quietly for Serena to hear. 

Serena smiles, steps forward, and slides her hands into Bernie’s hair. Bernie still tastes of the apples from their dessert, and she wastes no time in slipping her tongue into Serena’s mouth. 

“Hey! Get a room!” 

They separate with breathless chuckles, and Serena merrily flips off Kader, who is walking Ping and Pong before turning in for bed. 

“Come on, then,” Serena says as she grabs Bernie’s hand and gets them inside. 

The little house is the same as they left it when they went out for dinner, but everything feels different. Brighter. Infused with a light that seems to make Bernie shine. 

As soon as the front door closes behind them, Serena takes Bernie into her arms and kisses her once, twice, the kisses bleeding into one another until they are left breathless and dizzy. 

Serena suddenly finds herself backed onto a wall, but she doesn’t care, not when Bernie’s hands are hot on her cheeks, and then her sides. She seems to want to touch every thing at once, as if Serena is going to disappear. 

Her marvellous hands map Serena’s shoulders, then slide down to her ribcage and her hips, and Serena gasps when they slip on her thighs, rucking up her dress as they inch back up. 

“Can I? Serena? Can I?” Bernie asks, her lips hot and insistent on Serena’s neck. 

Serena moans when Bernie sucks her earlobe into her mouth, and she feels her knees buckle. Oh, she hasn’t felt this turned on in years. Bernie’s hands are splayed on her thighs, waiting. 

“Yes,” Serena hisses. “But if you don’t take me to bed, you’re going to have to carry me.” 

Bernie laughs, the sound low and deep and it makes Serena shiver. They make their way to Serena’s bedroom, stumbling onto tables and potted plants, and they get distracted just outside the door. Serena has discovered Bernie’s collarbones and she just must lick and bite them. Bernie surges into her, a strangled moan lodged in her throat. 

“Bed. Now,” Serena growls. 

She grabs Bernie by the lapel of her suit jacket and they tumble into her bed. From there, they kick and shed off their clothes, Serena’s hair getting caught in Bernie’s shirt buttons for a second. 

They both moan when their bodies touch without the barrier of clothing for the first time. Serena is half gone just from the kissing, and when Bernie slides on top of her she whines in appreciation. 

Bernie’s skin is soft and Serena’s hands roam on her back and her sides before ending up in her glorious hair once more. She tugs, and Bernie moans loudly, delighting Serena. 

They rock against each other, and Serena keens when she feels how wet Bernie is on her thigh. It’s such a foreign yet thrilling sensation. She applies pressure and Bernie puts her weight on her elbows, her eyes as dark as the night. 

“God, Serena, you feel…” Bernie gasps. 

The words are lost in another kiss. Serena is so taken with the feel of Bernie’s tongue that she almost misses Bernie’s hands on her breasts. They feel heavy and tight under Bernie’s caresses. A few breathless commands encourage Bernie to be more forceful, and soon Serena is writhing against the sheets, her hands still buried in Bernie’s hair. 

“Please, Bernie, please,” Serena pleads when Bernie adds her mouth to her fingers. 

She almost sobs with relief when one of Bernie’s hands trail down her body and slip past the waistband of her underwear. She’s soaked and swollen. 

“Serena,” Bernie just says, her voice breaking on her name. 

Serena cants her hips and Bernie slides two fingers in her in a gloriously smooth movement. She’s not one for poetry but Serena swears she sees stars. Bernie is above her, looking at her with awe and wonder. It’s good, so good, and Serena can feel it building at the bottom of her spine. She cries out and comes in a wave of pleasure, her toes curling in the sheets. 

“Oh, god,” she whispers when she comes to in Bernie’s arms. 

Bernie smiles against her temple. The room is quiet apart from laboured breathing. Serena wills her heart to slow down, but it’s hard to concentrate when Bernie is lying there naked. She props herself up on one hand to kiss Bernie and feels how keyed up she is. She’s practically vibrating against her. 

Serena just knows Bernie is beyond teasing. There will be time for that later, she decides. Right now she needs to make Bernie come apart. She’s so desperate for it, in fact, that she wastes no time in taking one of Bernie’s nipples in her mouth. 

Bernie almost flies off the bed. 

All this soft skin mesmerises Serena. She licks and nips and before she knows it, she’s cupping Bernie between her legs and Bernie is making these breathy moans that Serena wants to hear again and again. 

It’s the most natural thing in the world to slide her fingers through slick heat. Bernie whimpers and then moans, and Serena learns what feels good, and what feels great. She looks up to see Bernie staring at her with such heat that she thinks she might come again. This is new, feeling this much pleasure at merely giving pleasure. Her eyes greedily track every expression on Bernie’s face. 

When Bernie grabs Serena’s shoulders and throws her head back, Serena knows she is close. She slips a hand in Bernie’s hair and tugs and Bernie lets out a deep groan. Serena gasps when she feels her fluttering around her fingers. Bernie’s face is the picture of bliss and Serena can’t stop grinning. She put that look there. She made Bernie feel like this. Her. 

Bernie twines herself around Serena and hums in her neck. 

“And here I thought you’d never done this before,” she says. 

Serena preens a little. 

“Never kissed a woman in my life before you,” she says proudly, enjoying the look of utter surprise on Bernie’s face. 

“Well, well, Ms Campbell, you are truly a woman of many talents,” Bernie declares in between kisses down Serena’s chest. 

Serena hisses. Bernie smiles around a nipple and Serena wholeheartedly approves the use of teeth. It’s sinful, how sensitive her skin is under Bernie’s mouth. She thinks it can’t get any better, but then Bernie spreads her legs and her tongue slips between Serena’s thighs. 

Serena stops breathing and then blood come rushing through her ears. 

“Yes, Bernie, god, yes,” she moans. 

She buries her hands in Bernie’s hair and anchors herself as Bernie drives her insane with swirls and licks. She wants to make it last, but she can’t and she comes with a long drawn whimper. 

Dimly, limbs heavy, Serena notices how Bernie places a soft kiss on her inner thigh, as if she’s thanking it. It makes her smile and she hums happily in Bernie’s arms when she comes up to envelop her. 

She doesn’t mean to fall asleep but Bernie kisses her forehead and bundles them under the duvet. It’s warm, and safe and so her eyes close. 

 

It should be awkward, when they get up and go about their day, but it isn’t. In fact, Serena feels positively giddy. She smiles when Bernie hands her a cup of coffee in the morning, still sleepy and dishevelled. They end up kissing and kissing until the sun gets too strong to ignore. 

Emile has already done the morning chores and he grumbles good naturedly when he spies them making their way to the main building. 

Gossip travels fast in a place that size, so Serena has to endure Kader’s ribbing when they lead the horses to the fields, and she spends lunch blushing at Olivier’s clunky innuendos. 

By the afternoon, she’s happy to find Bernie lying under their main tractor, tinkering with the suspension. Serena spends a minute admiring her legs, and then crouches. 

“Can I interest you in a cup of tea?” She asks. 

Bernie rolls out from underneath the tractor and smiles up at her. She has a smudge of engine oil on her cheek so Serena brushes it away and they end up kissing against the door. 

“Well, if the tea arrives in the same fashion…” Bernie says with a quirk of an eyebrow.

Serena laughs and winks. 

 

Autumn rolls in with waves of mist that obscure the valley. Serena gets used to warming Bernie’s freezing feet in bed. They spend their days pruning the fruit trees of the orchard. It’s hard work, but Serena likes that she gets rewarded for her labour by trading hot kisses with Bernie as soon as they are alone. 

Serena thought that part of her life was over. In her mind, Elinor’s death had marked the end of her love life. Desire seemed impossible. 

But, here, in Bernie’s arms, sliding against her naked frame and swallowing Bernie’s moans into her mouth, Serena feels herself being reborn. Like a phoenix from the ashes, here she is, naked and alive. 

 

One cold morning, at the end of November, Serena is huddled under a thick throw in the main building, in Pascal’s office. She is going over the month’s invoices and expenses, and the ageing computer is proving to be temperamental. One floor below, Valerie is cheerfully making a batch of quince jelly, and Bernie is lending a hand. It smells delicious. 

Serena has just saved her latest spreadsheet when she hears the front the door banging open, and then a series of shouts. She hasn’t been a practising doctor in months, but the instinct kicks in and she runs out the room and down the stairs into the kitchen. 

Kader is shouting in French, clearly distressed. Something about a tractor. Bernie grabs him by the shoulders and makes him repeat himself.

“It’s Olivier. He’s under the tractor. It slipped backwards.” 

Serena’s blood turns cold. Bernie looks at her, and they run after Kader, Valerie shouting that she’ll call an ambulance. 

The adrenaline jolts her system, and she has never run this fast, past the stables, down the path to the lower fields. Bernie gets there first, and Serena gasps when she sees the scene. 

Olivier is trapped under the main wheel of their biggest tractor. His left leg is a bloody mess and he is groaning and twisting. His skin is pale and clammy. Bernie crouches next to him and Serena joins her, putting Olivier’s head onto her lap. 

Her heart twists. He is just a boy. 

She looks down his body, and sees torn flesh and bone. Bernie examines the wound, speaks to Olivier in low, measured tones. Serena strokes his face, rubs his arms so he stays warm, makes him focus on her. He calms down after a while, his eyes glassy but still focused.

“The circulation is good. I think it’s just broken,” Bernie says after she’s done looking. 

Serena breathes out in relief. Bernie takes off her jumper and makes a tourniquet. Slowly but surely, they both edge him away from the tractor, his jeans tearing but not his skin. 

“You’re doing so well, Olivier. Not long now, the ambulance is on its way,” Serena says softly, still stroking the young man’s hair. 

“Will I lose it? The leg?” He asks, his voice high and panicky. 

“No. No, it looks good. It’s just broken,” Bernie reassures him. 

His face scrunches up and he starts crying. 

“There, there, you have the best trauma surgeon in the world assessing you. It’s going to be alright,” Serena says soothingly. 

He nods and gulps. The field is eerily quiet, but suddenly they hear the sirens of an ambulance. The vehicle bumps into a fence corner, but they manage to get right where they are. 

Serena helps the paramedics put Olivier on the gurney, gives them all the information they need, and they watch as Pascal runs to join them, eyes wild. 

“He’s going to be ok,” Serena says as soon as he gets to them. 

Pascal puts his hands on his mouth and nods. Olivier is essentially the son he never had, and he jumps into the back of the ambulance. 

“Thank you. Both of you, thank you,” He says, his voice wet. 

The ambulance guns out of the field and onto the path, sirens blazing. 

Serena and Bernie are left in the field, their breaths swirling in the cold air, Bernie’s hands covered in blood. 

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” Serena says after a while. 

When they get to their bathroom, Serena makes Bernie sit on the edge of the bathtub. She gets out her first aid kit and opens a few antiseptic wipes. 

“You can take the girl out of medicine…” Bernie says with a smile. 

Serena snorts. The smell of blood is heady and brings back many memories, not all of them bad. She remembers successful surgeries, lives saved. The wipes remove the evidence of Olivier’s injury, but the adrenaline and the pride at a job well done are still very much present. 

“There. All clean,” Serena says. 

She brings Bernie’s hands to her mouth and kisses them softly. 

“You were very impressive in that field,” she says over Bernie’s knuckles. 

She feels Bernie flush. 

“I’ve missed it. Not the injuries, but the work,” Bernie says without looking at her. 

They haven’t really spoken about the future, ensconced in their lovely French bubble. 

“Me too,” Serena replies truthfully. 

She has. She misses her hospital, her ward. She misses surgery and the thrill of success. 

“Do you think you’ll want to go back, one day? To Holby? To medicine?” Bernie asks, her dark eyes boring into Serena’s. 

And Serena hears the implied ‘with me’ in Bernie’s voice. Serena has lived long enough to know that what they have is precious and not easily found. She knows Bernie feels the same, feels it in ever kiss, in every smile. 

“Yes,” she replies, putting her hand on Bernie’s face, her thumb stroking Bernie’s cheekbone. “Do you?” 

Bernie doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” 

It feels like a vow. Serena smiles and they kiss, slowly, hands tangling in hair. 

“I’d like to come with you when you do,” Bernie says against Serena’s lips. 

“I’d like that too,” Serena replies. 

And when they kiss again, Serena feels Bernie’s teeth knock against hers because they are both smiling. 

And for the first time in a long time, Serena feels hope.


End file.
